


You Get What You Give

by Alethia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Gen, Halloween, Hunters & Hunting, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-07
Updated: 2006-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-10 12:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obviously Halloween had turned his baby brother into some kind of hell-demon from, like, hell, here to torture him when all he wanted to do was keep people safe and not be a friggin’ M&M.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Get What You Give

**Author's Note:**

> Sam's eleven and Dean's fifteen. Guede said things like Halloween, M&Ms, undercover and this was born. Cannon River Valley does exist and the geographic details are relatively accurate. Kelpies are shape-shifting water horses from the Scottish tradition. Uhh and no offense to anyone from Minnesota. Originally posted on LJ [here](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/186238.html).

“No way!” Dean was standing in what passed for their living room and Dad had lost his damn mind.

“Dean…” Dad had the long-suffering tone, the one that meant he wasn’t about to argue with Dean as he was the Adult and The One in Charge.

Dean knew to obey the tone, but, _there were limits_.

“Come on, Dad! You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Look at my face,” he said, pointing to his face with one hand and the other holding—holding—

“It’s an M&M costume!” Yes, Dad had that grave look, the one that said this was important, but…still. “Do you want me to be socially paralyzed for the rest of my life? We just got here.”

Dad sighed, shaking his head. “It’s our job, Dean. This is serious. These people are going to let their kids run off into the woods with a kelpie or a puca or a water fairy out there and Indian burial mounds no less and you’re complainin’ about a costume?”

Well, when he put it like that…

“Couldn’t you have found, like, Zorro or something? An M&M? Why are they even making them this big? Aw, man, I’m gonna look like a bloated…thing.”

Dad rolled his eyes, correctly guessing that Dean had moved from protesting to bitching and would do what he said. Like that was ever in question.

But still.

Dad tossed the pile of fabric in his face, shaking his head like Dean should know better. “It was the only thing that was black and it was on sale.”

“Are these _leggings_? You’re making me wear tights? Not just an M &M, a _gay_ M &M. Congratulations, you’ve scarred me for life.”

Dad was actually smiling some, like he was content to sit back and watch the show. Like it _was_ a show.

So not a show!

“You’re enjoying my pain,” Dean grumbled, feeling the polyester slide between his fingers as he got a better look at it. God, this was gonna suck so much.

Dad chuckled, swatting the back of his head. “These are the moments you’ll cherish forever, my boy. Or I will, anyway.”

He really was an evil, bad, mean man. He should know that.

“You’re an evil, bad—holy crap, is this M&M stoned?” he asked, getting a look at the M&M’s expression. “I’m a round, gay, _stoned_ M &M?”

“At least you’ll have an excuse for the tights,” Dad pointed out, oh-so-helpful.

“Oh, that is so not—”

“Mine fits!” Sammy announced, bouncing in like this was the coolest thing ever, they finally got to wear costumes and go out and—

Dean actually looked at him. “Hey! Why’s his not stoned? And where are his tights?”

“The child-sized ones don’t come with pants.”

Dean gaped, not believing the words coming out of his father’s mouth, sure there must be some reasonable explanation—he was possessed, he was on drugs, _Dean_ was on drugs. “To recap: I’m a round, gay, stoned M &M, made even cooler because I match my eleven-year-old brother, and I’m gonna have to deal with chafed nads all night and he _won’t_?”

Dad considered, nodding after a beat. “Yeah, pretty much got it all down, there.”

“This is not happening.”

Sam kind of stomped his foot, irritated. “I said it fits,” he repeated, like this was Very Important. Dean looked over, watching as Sam twirled and showed it off.

“Yeah, you’re a regular fashion model, bro.”

He shot Dean a dirty look but apparently a sugar high could be transferred through a costume because Sammy was in the freakin’ stratosphere over this. “Do you think we’ll get candy?”

Dad’s smile faded a little and he looked at Sam seriously. “Now Sammy, you know this isn’t for fun. We have to protect these people, get control of the kelpie and keep anyone from wandering into any of the burial mounds.”

“When we don’t even know where they all are because they’ve never been excavated and we don’t even know if it’s a kelpie or something else entirely. While wearing M&M costumes which really allow freedom of movement,” Dean put in acidly.

“I never said it would be easy, son. But it is necessary.” Dean shifted, guilty at the way Dad could do that, be all earnest and disapproving, like Dean should know better.

But _still_.

Sam looked between the two of them. “Was that a yes on the candy?”

***

The trail was so, so juvenile it hurt him. After actually seeing the supernatural his whole life the stupid, plastic little set-ups every few feet were just laughable. Dean did laugh, actually, but Sammy was giving him nothing, swept up in all the other kids chattering away.

It didn’t help that he looked like a freakin’ moron, the oldest costumed one there, dressed to match his kid brother. What, like he couldn’t have gone as Sam’s chaperone or something? But noooo, Dad had taken on that role, promptly disappearing once they’d gotten past the “guards.”

What they were guarding was an excellent question.

Dean really, really wanted to scratch his balls but people were _looking_ at him and little fairy princesses were giggling behind their sparkly magic wands and dammit, this was so not fair!

“Dean?” He knew that voice.

This was not happening. This could not be happening.

“Dean, is that you?”

Dammit! Ashley. She was the one he’d had his eye on. Minnesota girls were _easy_ —this was, after all, the state where Stephanie Ailes had let him kiss her when he was eight—and Ashley was definitely top pick for the furtherance of Dean’s sexual exploration, all long dark hair and bright blue eyes, nice rack for their grade and—

Right. Of course she’d be here.

He turned, pasting on a semi-convincing smile. “Ashley! Hey, how’s it going?” Of course she’d be all casual, jeans and a sweatshirt, no costume on her, nope, not for the big kids.

Unless you were Dean. Dammit.

She grinned, taking in his costume, eyebrows rising further by the minute. “Good, good. What are you…doing here?”

Where the hell was Sammy?

“Oh, me? I’m just out with my kid brother. You know, he was a little nervous, didn’t want to come alone.”

Sam ran up, oh thank God, and—“Dean! Dean, you have got to come see the zombie one. They used crushed grapes for brains and there’s blood everywhere.”

“Yeah, thanks Sammy, I’ll be right there,” he called, short, now wishing Sam would just shoo. Big curious eyes blinked up at him, shifting to Ashley before shifting back, and there went the kid with his blushing, scuffing his boot in the dirt.

“Um, okay.” And then he was gone and Dean was gritting his teeth and life _sucked so hard_.

“Yeah, he seems real nervous,” Ashley said, very obviously clamping down on a smile.

“Oh, you know kids, they recover. Very quickly.”

“Uh-huh.”

Dean ran a frustrated hand over the back of his neck, shaking his head. “Ahhh, yeah. So, anyway.” How the fuck do you recover from a pile of awkward this high and this deep and just towering— “How about you? What are you doing out on this lovely and original trail?” Good, yes! Let her talk about herself. Girls loved to do that.

“Oh, Jennifer’s mom helped put this on, so she wanted us to check it out, you know.” She waved behind her, indicating the very large gaggle of girls currently watching, Jennifer presumably among them, all giggly and whispering behind their hands. 

There so went his chances with the entire grade.

Sucked. So. Hard.

“Right! Right. Good for you. That’s—nice.” How in the _hell_ do you make this suck less? No, really. He might have to drop out of school at this rate.

“Yeah, well, I should get back to—it was nice seeing you,” she said, kind of shaking her head and grinning at him. Definitely _at_ him.

And then she was gone. “Right, I’ll just go find—my brother.” Who was he talking to again?

He turned, stalking off toward the undoubtedly fake-ass zombie display, kicking at clumps of dirt on the way, scattering a group of children.

Where in the hell was the damn kelpie? He had some frustration to work out.

***

Sam blinked at him, very obviously waiting, branches from the trees behind him kind of framing him by the side of the trail. Several of the parents frowned at Dean as he walked up.

Okay, now he was a round, gay, stoned M&M who couldn’t even mind his brother properly, let’s just forget that Sammy could probably take anything that came his way with one hand tied behind his back.

Not like he could _say_ that.

“Hey, bro, you having a good time?” he practically growled it, taking in how Sam was chewing on a tootsie roll like this was just the best day ever.

Sam picked up on his mood, looking him up and down quickly, assessing in that scary-ancient way he had. “What, no sucking face in the woods?”

Dean grabbed at the scruff of Sam’s neck, grimacing something that might look like a smile. It was possible. “Have we found the damn kelpie yet?”

Sam shrugged him off, glaring through too-long hair. “No. And just because she won’t let you,” he waved his hand vaguely, not demonstrating anything and really, there was Sam for you, “don’t take it out on me.”

“Man, I was gonna get laid in this town. Minnesota girls—”

“Are easy, yeah, I’ve heard it already. But aren’t you supposed to be gay?” Sam asked, all fluffy-haired innocence, the effect ruined by the way his eyes were gleaming in the fire-safe lanterns strung along the trail and—

Dean held out a quelling hand, shutting his eyes. “Never speak of that again.”

Sammy broke into muted chuckles and obviously Halloween had turned his baby brother into some kind of hell-demon from, like, hell, here to torture him when all he wanted to do was keep people safe and not be a friggin’ M&M.

Dean opened his eyes to glare and Sam put his hand over his mouth, like that made it any better when he was _laughing_ at Dean’s humiliation, hiding it. Hiding it _badly_.

It was an unjust universe, that’s all there was to it.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?” he finally ground out, pulling Sam into the traffic moving along the trail, dodging a potentially disastrous collision with a Ninja Turtle and getting a rude look from his mother for the effort.

“Remember that thing with the girl in the car back in Indiana?” Sam asked, chomping away at something else now.

Dean winced. “Knew that was gonna come bite me in the ass.”

“You want me to get your back?”

“Yeah, yeah, goes both ways. Fine. Be like that. But I’m not forgetting what happened back there.”

“Think it’d make it better if you explained you were a gay M&M?” Sam asked, crunching on, yes, M&Ms. Dean grabbed the pack, ruthlessly shoving some into his mouth and ignoring Sam’s solid punch to his arm.

“I am abused, I’ll have you know.” He gestured at Sammy with the pack, waving it in front of his face. “This day is _ruining_ my favorite candy.”

“There’s always the peanut ones.” He said it with a completely straight face, so obviously Sammy was laughing at him. Again.

Taking shit from all sides and there was nothing he could do about it. Yeah, that was his life all right.

***

The Cannon Valley Interpretive Trail ran in a mile and a half loop, but of course kids were going to go off it and into the river terrace, just above where the Cannon River met Trout Brook. And considering how wonderfully kelpies meshed with water, you know, like three drowned kids that had shown up in the last week? Yeah, it made the place between his shoulder blades itch.

Not that he could scratch since he was a friggin’ M&M and his costume was really bad for, like, twisting…or moving.

Still, ducking through bushes and dodging tress that showed up out of nowhere while chasing dumbass kids was probably better than staying out on the trail where people could actually see him. So there was that.

Sammy had gone all quiet and bitchy, though, surprise, surprise. No more looking at what kind of candy there was or talking to other kids. Or _listening_ considering this was Sam after all.

“Dad shoulda gotten you a Pinocchio costume. Then all your wishes to be real boy would at least be in character,” he grumbled, kind of startling when a whisper-thin branch hit him in the face with a nice stinging thwack.

Just fucking great. And that was probably gonna leave a mark, too.

“Oh, thanks, bro. Real mature.” He touched his cheek gingerly, wincing at the burn. He’d had worse…but still. His face?

Sam laughed, short. “What? It’s not like any of the girls will ever look at you again.”

“Gee, thanks for reminding me.”

“Now if you’re taking your costume’s lead and going after—”

“Do not finish that sentence.” Dean adjusted himself in his pants, yet again. God, this thing made him itch. “Besides, _I’ll_ have to look at it in the mirror.”

“I read this story about a guy named Narcissus—”

“You read too much. But hell, I am _all about_ the self-love, dude.” It was a sad thing Sammy couldn’t see his hand gesture. It would have made him blush and that might have made Dean feel better. Possibly.

Sam stilled and what? C’mon, that was so not the most offensive thing he’d ever—

“Shh!” Sam hissed, turning his head and listening, their flashlights casting eerie shadows on the trees around them.

And Dean heard it, too, the laughter of kids and…rushing water.

“Of course they find the river. I swear, how the human race has survived for thousands of years is a bigger mystery than what exactly is in Melissa Allen’s bra.”

Sam scoffed at him under his breath, moving quick and quiet through the woods, even with his costume. “Like you wouldn’t be out groping some girl if you had the chance.”

“Dude. No girl’s hot enough to die for. And especially when it’s such a stupid death.” Of this he was very, very certain.

“Shh shh!” Wow, that was irritating. Dad was one thing, but ordered around by an eleven-year-old? “There they are.”

Yep. Right at the water’s edge, a group of four teens a little older than he was, illuminated by lanterns and oh, they’d planned this little bit of idiocy? Great.

Survival of the human race? Total fuckin’ mystery.

“You should go up and make them leave,” Sam whispered, breath stirring the leaves of the bush they crouched behind.

“Gee, really? And what am I supposed to say, ‘hey, older kids, listen to the dork in the M&M costume tell you to leave because you might get dragged in by a renegade water fairy?’”

Sam shrugged. “Or you could say the guards are on their way because kids died here.” And did he have to say it like it was so freakin’ obvious?

Dean grunted. “Fine. But you are so not complaining when Dad moves us somewhere else. There’s only so much a man can take.”

Sam kind of laughed darkly and Dean swore he heard him mutter something about there not being any of those around, which was friggin’ not _on_ and further, Dean was gonna tell him about it, only to be distracted by a loud shout from the group.

“Hey! What’s that?” Some blonde girl was pointing a ways over, and Dean could just make out the shape of something darker moving against the reflected light on the water.

“Aw, crap,” he grumbled, breaking out of the bushes and into the low shrubbery that approached the water. He ran to where the kids had already approached what looked like, yes, a black horse.

With yellow eyes.

“Double crap,” he muttered, slowing to something reasonable as he approached the kids, getting their attention.

“Hey, everybody. Whatcha doin’?”

“Are you an M&M?” one of the boys asked, looking at him like he’d sprouted a couple extra heads and yeah. This was gonna end well.

He rubbed his hands together, tried to put on an earnest expression. “Hey, just so you know, I heard the guards coming toward here a little while ago, so we should probably leave before they catch us.”

The other girl piped in, looking at him like he’d lost his mind. “Hey, my dad’s one of those. They don’t patrol. They’re just to make sure kids are supervised.”

“Uhh, well, I don’t know. I heard someone out there coming this way and you know, a bunch of kids drowned out here recently.”

“Is that horse wearing a saddle? Dibs on riding it,” the other boy called, scurrying up to the horse and grabbing at it.

“Is it really a good idea to be riding random horses?” Dean asked, feeling stupid and helpless and awkward—so, so awkward.

The blonde girl looked at him funny. “You must have a really boring life,” she said, snooty.

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” he muttered. Seeing the first boy trying to get his leg over unassisted, he called out, “Man, that’s just stupid. You’re doing it all wrong.”

“Yeah? You think you can do better, queer?”

“Ahh, the enlightened backwoods. Get off the damn horse and let me show you how it’s done.” Oh, how he’d love to let the thing drag him off. But no, this was his job, no matter how big an asshole the kid was.

They’d researched the water spirits and if it had a saddle it was most likely a kelpie. If it was a kelpie it was just gonna try and drown him and he could handle that. Now, if it were an each uisgé, well, then he was kinda screwed. But it so wasn’t.

Amazingly the kid got down, whether because he was afraid of looking too much like a moron—hard to go any further down that road, really—or because he desperately wanted to see a giant M&M on the back of a horse, Dean didn’t know.

In fact, he didn’t _want_ to know. He just wanted this to be over with, dammit.

Dean walked up and used a hand on the saddle as leverage, the horse helping by kind of dipping down—thanks ever so fucking much—and then things started happening really quickly. There was a shout from the woods and the kids started scrambling, the kelpie kind of shivered and took off, Dean’s hand ending up twisted in its mane and ew, he really didn’t want to know what the sliminess tangled up in it was. 

The horse plunged into the water and Dean took a deep breath just before he went under, got a hand down to his boot, fingers only slipping a couple times as he grabbed the knife and secured his grip, bringing it around to saw at the straps holding the saddle in place by feel alone, his eyes useless in the water.

He was almost through the second when his lungs seriously started protesting, panic setting in and making him cut faster, he could feel as it pulled apart…and _yes_ , he had it. Dean wrapped his arms around the saddle and yanked up, movement propelling him to the surface just as black spots started dancing in his vision.

He wasn’t that far out, but it felt like it took forever to drag the fucking thing to the shore. Dean dropped onto the ground in the shallows, water in his boots already annoying him. He still clutched the saddle and, ignoring how the rocks scraped his hands, focused all his energy on breathing.

Sam ran up to him, saying something that Dean ignored, and the kids seemed to have scattered, leaving their lanterns.

There was noise in his ears and Dean shook his head, trying to figure out what—

Oh. Sam was talking.

“Gah, gimme a minute would you?” he asked, irritable, sucking in lungfuls of cold air, cold air that _burned_ , ow, the taste of the water coating his mouth.

“That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen you do! And I saw you slip on a banana peel and almost fall down a flight of stairs. This? Was stupider than that, Dean. Stupider.” Sam kicked at his shin, pain needing to get in fucking line at this point and—

“Is stupider even a word?” he grumbled, shoving himself onto all fours and just starting to get that it was October in Minnesota and good God, it was fucking freezing.

Sam kicked him again and Dean growled. “Hey! I was almost drowned by a friggin’ kelpie. Could we please stop with the kicking until after I deal with that?”

“Fine, but you’re telling Dad!” Sam kicked at the rocks instead, thankfully, and Dean had recovered enough to finally get up, dragging the saddle along with him, not that that was easy since now it was out of the water it weighed a ton.

The kelpie had come up, was waiting for him, eyes watching him warily, little shifts giving away the worry.

He fucking well should be worried.

Dean walked up, not flinching from his gaze, all about making a point now. “I don’t appreciate almost being drowned.”

“You climbed onto my back.” Okay, a horse talking? Weirdest shit ever. _Mr. Ed_ had nothing on this.

“And now I own your ass so here’s what you’re gonna do. Give me your word as a good little kelpie that you’re gonna stop drowning kids. Play with them, scare them, whatever. Stop causing their deaths.”

“If I agree to this bargain, you will release me from bondage?”

“I don’t want your friggin’ bondage. It’s like forty degrees and I’m a wet M&M. I don’t need a talking horse added into the mix.”

The kelpie kind of—backed away a little and fine, Dean might be a little hysterical. Whatever.

There was only so much a man could _take_.

“So do we have a deal?” he asked, not letting the horse look away.

“I assent to your terms.”

“Thank fucking Christ.” He threw the saddle at the damn thing. “Now skedaddle.”

It reared back again, confused maybe, but got the general gist and trotted off, disappearing into the fog.

He turned and—there was Dad.

“Where have you been?”

Dad shook his head, almost looking—shaken? Dean was pretty much shivering uncontrollably just then, but Dad definitely didn’t look good.

“Sorry, boys. I ran into a burial ground and—well, had a little issue getting out again. Looks like you handled yourself well.” He clapped Dean on the shoulder, wincing when his hand came away sopping. “Relatively.”

Sam glared at Dean, tapping his foot and what?

“Oh, fine. Dad, I jumped on the kelpie’s back. But it was cool, I cut off its saddle and it promised to stop killing people.” Or, at least, that’s what he meant to say. It came out rather jumbled, teeth chattering, but from the smile on Dad’s face, he seemed to get most of it.

“Ha! That’s my boy! C’mon, let’s get you two home and warmed up.”

He draped his jacket around Dean’s shoulders, still warm from his body, and Dean grunted, shivering subsiding slightly. He could hear Sam skipping along behind them, bag of candy bouncing against his leg with muted crinkles.

Dean turned. “What do you think of dressing up for Halloween now, Sammy?”

Sam blinked at him. Shrugged. “It worked. Maybe you should dress up as a wet, gay, stoned M&M more often.”

Dad breathed out a laugh, clasping Dean’s shoulder tighter, and Dean just shook his head.

He _could not win_.

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


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